


Smoke and Mirrors

by Shaddyr



Series: Stories of a (not quite average) Life [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, SGA Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaddyr/pseuds/Shaddyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“General Sheppard! What do you have to say about the allegations that your improper sexual relationship with a team member while commanding the Atlantis Expedition compromised your judgment, leaving you unfit for command?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [ART - Wraith Attack](https://archiveofourown.org/works/837178) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan). 



> I have to thank Tarlan for the fantastic piece she did. I love a good comic, and that, my friends, is one fine comic indeed! I took one look at the action and wondered what the hell was going on in Sheppard's head. And now I get to tell you!
> 
> I should note that there are references in this work to events in my previous stories [By Any Other Name](http://archiveofourown.org/works/433719) and [Precipice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/502851). It is not necessary that you read them first (or at all) but they might make a few things clearer.
> 
> Please see the note at the end wherein I rave about my fantastic beta and cheerleaders. Now? ON TO THE FIC!

_Robert Heinlein once said, “You can have peace. Or you can have freedom. Don't ever count on having both at once.”_

_For the past 20 years, Earth has enjoyed both freedom and peace, after a fashion. I suppose when you consider that we reside in a galaxy rife with tensions and powerful adversaries who'd destroy us if they could, that's pretty amazing. Not to mention the distant, yet ever-present threat of annihilation at the hands of space vampires._

_For a while, it seemed like finding out that we had enemies 'Out There' gave us some much needed perspective. People realized that hating other people *here* because of their religion, skin colour or sexuality was pretty stupid in the face of the reality that there were some aliens out *there* who would happily enslave – or eat – everyone on the entire planet._

_There was a lot of chaos after the Big Reveal, but some incredible changes for the better too. Once the galaxy opened up for humanity, with the promise of interplanetary travel and trade, people rose up and demanded that their governments comply with the requirements in place to gain access to the gate. There were more than a few cases of deposed tyrants running for their lives in the wee hours as people all over the world stepped up and demanded better of their governments. Wars over stupid things like land or oil or religion had to stop before someone or something came along and picked us off while we were squabbling amongst ourselves._

_As much as we have matured as a race, humanity is still cursed with the propensity toward idiocy, plagued by a subsection of deeply stupid people who always managed to find some great horror to crusade against. It wasn't long before the Purity League and organizations like it sprung into existence, preying on the fears of small minded bigots and fools. While most people consider the League a bunch of racist hatemongers on par with the KKK or WBC, they garnered a lot of support back when it all hit the fan. A lot of innocent folks got hurt, or even killed, simply because they tested positive for the ATA gene._

_I've had a front row seat to horrors perpetrated by regimes who simply traded one type of hate ideology for another, imprisoning or killing their own people because of their genetics instead of their beliefs or race._

_Sadly, we haven't matured nearly as much as we need to. And after all I've seen, if it ever comes down to a choice between the two, I'm taking freedom, because way too often, the peace on offer is a lie._

_~ From "A Barely Adequate Peace"  
A guest blog by Anna Grissom_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Overall, the declassification of the Stargate program had been a boon. Everyone on Earth was now able to benefit from the discoveries that had been made during the course of the program. There were technological advances in computers and cleaner energy as well as medical breakthroughs and new drugs that treated previously incurable diseases.

The downside for those involved with the program had been suffering through cross-examination at the hands of an international tribunal. Formed primarily of representatives from non-members countries, the tribunal seemed to have the stance of guilty until proven innocent. They challenged every decision ever made, from the SGC logo to the decision not to reveal the true nature of the Ori plague. Much like it was at the time of the original Gate Alliance Treaty, the nations who were previously unaware of the program were furious to learn that some select few nations had been travelling among the stars, representing the planet without their input. Unfortunately, this time they didn’t have Thor to speak for them - it was all on the representative from the SGC.

Landry, O’Neill, Sheppard and Voronkova all took turns answering questions and defending various military actions that had been taken over the years. Carter, McKay and Markov were grilled about scientific advances, and spent hours giving an in-depth accounting of both the amazing discoveries and horrific mistakes that had been made through the program.

At the end of the day, and much to the frustration of the tribunal, many of their questions had been answered with the statement, “I’m sorry, that information is still classified.”

The wolves had waited patiently. It was only a few more years before all the documents were finally cleared for release. Formal information requests were issued, and granted, providing them with the evidence they had been waiting for. The truth would be revealed about the supposed hero of Atlantis - John Sheppard would finally pay for his crimes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

John was considering the important question of steak vs. chicken when he heard the doorbell. With a sigh, he closed the freezer, the glanced up at the clock. Who would be at the door at almost 8pm? Had Rodney forgotten his key?

He was making his way toward the door when the bell sounded again. “Keep your shirt on,” he yelled as he reached for the doorknob. “Why didn’t you just come around... the back... what the hell?”

There were people at his doorstep, a whole group of them. He recognized the one front and centre with a microphone in her hand as a reporter for a national news program. There was a cameraman right behind her, and still others farther back with microphones and cameras of their own.

“General Sheppard!" The spitfire in front demanded his attention. “What do you have to say about the allegations that your improper sexual relationship with a team member while commanding the Atlantis Expedition compromised your judgment, leaving you unfit for command?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

She was like a dog with a bone. “The allegations against you, General, that while in command of Atlantis you, on numerous occasions, risked the safety of the expedition and even the Earth, to save your lover, Dr. McKay, that you were, in fact, in violation of the anti-fraternization regulations at that time and that you subsequently went on to illegally broker deals with the Wraith on more than one occasion to save Dr. McKay's life.”

He felt his world narrow in on itself, vision shrinking down to a tunnel, while the sound of blood rushing in his ears drowned out most everything else. “Details of certain events which you may or may not be referring to are still classified, and I am not at liberty to discuss them.”

That earned him a scornful, almost pitying look. “General, certain detailed reports from your time as military commander of Atlantis have recently become available through the Freedom of Information act. A number of your depositions for the IOA and your After Action reports are now a matter of public record.” She shoved the microphone in his face again. “Is it true that you gave the Wraith known as "Todd" other humans in exchange for the life of Dr. McKay?”

“He has no comment at this time, you blood sucking leeches!” came a bellow from behind the group gathered on the steps. It was Rodney, striding forward like an avenging angel, shoving reporters and camera crew alike out of his way as he stormed up the steps and ushered John inside.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rodney was strangely silent as he hustled John into the living room. He gently shoved John down onto the couch.

“Rodney?” John hated the plaintive sound of his voice, but he’d been caught completely off guard and hadn’t managed to find his equilibrium yet.

“God, John, why didn’t you pick up the phone when I called?” Rodney complained as he set his laptop on the end table. “I must have tried you a half dozen times before I left the mountain, didn’t you get any of my messages?”

“Would you believe I went for a run and forgot the damn thing?” he asked with a shrug. “I was hungry when I got in. Food seemed more important than checking voicemail.”

“Hold on,” Rodney said, his face grim as he turned away. “This conversation actually requires more alcohol than we have in the house, but we’ll make do with what we’ve got.” John watched as he walked over the bar and poured a couple of fingers worth of Glenmorangie into two tumblers. Rodney brought them back over and handed one to John. He accepted it gratefully.

“I take this to mean that you, at least, know what the hell is going on?” he asked before sipping the whisky.

Rodney nodded, and then left John gaping as he tossed back half the glass in one swallow. He let out a wheezy cough and blinked several times. “Yeah,” he managed voice husky. He raised his glass to John in a mock salute. “I was quite serious about the alcohol, by the way,” he said and proved the point by draining the glass then sitting it down on the table.

John looked at the empty glass and then at Rodney. “Rodney! What. The hell. Is happening?”

Rodney took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You know how most of the information pertaining to Atlantis has been undergoing mandatory declassification review? Well, someone decided that, in the interests of historical accuracy and transparency with the public, it would be okay to release a good chunk of the Atlantis post-mission files.”

John nodded. It made sense. He didn’t think the average civilian needed that much information about the Genii or the Wraith or the number of fucked up things that had happened in the Pegasus galaxy, but he could understand the logic of being open and transparent with a public that was clamouring for answers.

“A few weeks ago, the SGC received a very specific request made under the Freedom of Information Act. It was for any and all documentation and reports pertaining to any Wraith presence on Earth as well as the Wraith invasion in the 7th year of the expedition. Whoever was behind this knew exactly what they were looking for.” Rodney stared at the floor, his face a study of misery. “John, they're trying to nail you to the wall, and they’re using me to do it.”

John was aghast. “Rodney,” he said, desperate to wipe that look off McKay's face. “It’s not your fault! God,” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. This was incredibly fucked up. There was only one reason that those specific records would have been requested in conjunction with each other. And if their plan was to destroy his credibility, it would probably work, because it wasn't as if the accusations were unfounded.

“You were right about there not being enough alcohol in the house," he said. "There probably isn't enough alcohol on the entire planet for this. Just… bring the bottle over here and sit down.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When the phone rang, Jack considered not answering it. The sun was shining, the fish were ignoring his lure, and he had a 6-pack of beer in the cooler at his side. He could hear Sam humming through the open kitchen window of the cabin behind him, and knew that very soon, a delicious lunch would be presented to him, right here on the dock, in the centre of his own little paradise.

The phone rang again, and he sighed. He was pretty sure he knew who it was, and if he didn't answer the damn thing, odds were 10 to 1 that the caller would cash in a favour with the commander of the Daedalus, lock on to his transponder and beam in for a personal chat. He picked up the phone.

"O'Neill."

"General. I'd like a word with you, please."

Oh yeah, Sheppard was just as pissed as O'Neill had suspected he would be. "I miss the days when unavailable actually meant that."

"Sir, you can’t be serious about this!"

O'Neill let out a deep sigh and then set down his fishing rod. He needed a beer for this conversation. "John, you've seen the papers."

That earned him a bitter laugh. "Who hasn’t? I've been plagued by reporters ever since the information went public! They're everywhere, calling, emailing – hell, I even had a couple show up at my door. I can't go to the grocery store without running into the paparazzi." There was a pause before Sheppard continued, more quietly than before. "I had been expecting a summons to appear before the International Criminal Court."

"Jesus, John!" Jack shook his head. He'd never admit it on pain of death, but McKay was right about Sheppard and his propensity to take responsibility for the sins of the world. Or the SGC in this case. "May I remind you that a military review board, upon which I had to sit, wasting many hours I could have been fishing, found that there was no crime committed. And, viola! No need for a court to convene. The press is grasping at straws and spinning tales. They’re just hoping they can provoke a reaction out of you."

The fire was back in Sheppard's voice. "Then would you mind explaining to me exactly how going on a press tour is going to make this any better?"

"You can blame the IOA for that. Their PR department says we need to be proactive," O'Neill said with disgust. "They figure if we give the press the story we want to tell and make them agree to our terms, they'll stop running around and inferring things that aren't true based on incomplete information. Not that it will stop them, but try convincing the stuffed shirts."

"But sir…" Sheppard's voice was strained. "It is true. They're not wrong--"

"Dammit, Sheppard! It’s all bullshit. We've had this conversation before, and I'm not having it again." He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the stress headache building behind his eyes. "You will go off and play nice with the friendly reporters who will only ask you previously approved questions. You will flash that charming smile at the cameras and tell the stories that remind the vapid masses that the only reason they're still alive is because of the SGC and people like you and me. And you will pretend that you are happy to be doing it. Are we clear?"

There was a moment of silence before Sheppard replied. "Crystal, sir."

"Good. Now go take the weekend off to get drunk, suffer through your hangover and pull yourself back together."

Sheppard let out a huff of laughter. "Already did the drinking, sir. Working on the hangover right now."

"Good to hear. You need to be presentable for the cameras by Monday afternoon at 1500. You're due in LA to record one of those late night TV shows. An IOA appointed PR nanny will be in touch with your itinerary."

Sheppard swore colourfully and at length. Jack winced and decided to let it slide. He thanked all the powers in the universe that he was not the one who had to do this. "Good luck, John."

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

"Anna!" Pierce's bellow echoed across the sound stage. She ignored him, eyes closed to savour the rush from the first caffeine hit of the day. Ahh, blissful, wonderful coffee. 5am was too fricking early to start the day.

"ANNA, GODDAMIT!"

With a sigh, she opened her eyes and turned toward the source of the noise. Her boss, as always, looked frazzled, red-faced and wild eyed. "Jesus, Bob. Calm down, you're going to burst a vessel," she said, then took another sip of coffee. "What?"

He stomped over to her and shoved a tablet in her hands. "I just got a very irate call from the IOA, Anna! You didn't sign the agreement."

She rolled her eyes and took the tablet, quickly scanning through the document. It was the same standard IOA bullshit, promising not to ask about a whole list of 'classified' items and to stick to the pre-authorized list of topics. Yet another dog and pony show.

"Bob, I didn't sign this piece of crap because I thought we were journalists getting a story, not the PR department for the IOA. I would like to actually talk about the elephant in the room that inspired this whirlwind press tour."

He blinked at her uncomprehendingly. "For fuck's sake, Anna!" he exploded. "Would you get it through your head you're not out in the field anymore? This is morning television! We are all about new self-help books, fluffy kittens and handsome space heroes." He reached out and tapped the screen, highlighting the signature line. "If you don't sign, they're pulling him, and no interview! Our ratings, Anna, think about our ratings! So help me God, if you screw this up – just sign the damn thing!"

She clamped down on her fury as she stared at the tablet. God, how she missed Mogadishu and Khuzdar, even with the constant fear of imminent death. There, she'd been reporting on things that mattered, at least until it all went to shit. She was lucky to have a job as a reporter at all (such as it was) and she knew it. So did Bob. But she just couldn't let it go without a fight. She took the pen and scribbled on the line, then hit the SEND button to forward the document to the IOA.

"There you go, your ratings are safe for another day," she said as she handed the tablet back to him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go let make-up work their magic so I look like the vacant, blonde showpiece you hired me to be."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Sheppard groaned as he reached out to bat the alarm. Flopping back for a moment, he raised his arms above his head and arched into a full body stretch before finally rolling out of bed. He really wanted to go for a run, but that wasn't going to happen. He'd discovered the hard way that there were still enough reporters sniffing around that he wouldn’t get 20 feet before he was surrounded, and his picture would end up all over the local rags. Using the hotel gym was out of the question for pretty much the same reasons.

Dropping to the floor, he did several sets of push-ups followed by sit-ups and finished up with a set of reverse crunches. He climbed to his feet, still feeling a bit groggy and out of sorts despite the workout. He cast one longing look back at where McKay still lay wrapped up in the mussed bed sheets before heading into the shower.

He turned on the water, hot and full blast, allowing the pounding spray to wash away the cobwebs as it loosened his tight muscles. Even mind blowing sex the previous night had not fully eased the tension he was carrying. The memories made him smile, though. There had been orgasms, plural, because when Rodney was focused on something - in this case, relaxing him - he threw himself into it with everything he had. Even after all these years, John felt a blush rising, growing hard again just thinking about it. He let his hand fly over his cock as recalled Rodney’s talented hands making his body sing, his hot mouth sucking him down, and the feeling of Rodney oh-so-slowly sliding home, inexorably driving him into the mattress with slow, powerful strokes. John had been reduced to a writhing mass, with no room in his head for anything but _Rodney, yes, oh god, so hot, so good_. He came with a groan, thick spurts that were washed away by the water as it flowed over him, and he leaned against the shower wall as he caught his breath. He was very glad Rodney had ignored him when he’d said he didn’t need to come with him. John didn’t think he could have made it through this without him.

Much to his surprise, not all of the appearances had been horrible. They hadn’t been his idea of fun either, but he would rate them at least somewhat more desirable than undergoing actual, deliberate torture. In his considered opinion, fielding casually personal questions from quick-talking TV show hosts was only slightly less painful than having a root canal performed without anaesthetic. Though there had been a few when that was open for debate.

The first appearance had been in LA. The host, a slight man with a British accent, had been a little bit too touchy-feely for John’s taste, but other than that, he’d been nice enough.

 

_The host smiled broadly. "Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?"_

_"I like College football, Ferris wheels and things that go faster than 200 miles an hour."_

_The audience laughed and the host gave him a mock-offended look. "Oh, come on now, General! That’s one of the most quoted lines from your character in ‘The Siege’.”_

_John just smirked. “That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”_

_“Ferris wheels are actually pretty slow,” the host pointed out. “What’s the attraction there?”_

_“Well, two things really,” John said. “First, I like being up high. It’s a pilot thing. Secondly?” He turned to give the audience a devilish smirk. “Some things are better when you take them slowly. That way you have time to... enjoy the full experience.”_

_The women in the audience let out a deafening squeal as the host laughed. “And that’s a ride that should be shared with someone special, no doubt?” he asked._

_John nodded. “Always a good idea. Just makes a great thing even better.”_

 

He sighed as he lathered up his hair. As nice as that host had been John would rather take on a Wraith queen any day. At least they were a known quantity, and he was confident in his ability to take one down. These glib comedians often slid in pointed jokes or made not-so-funny observations, managing to avoid verboten topics while slyly alluding to them. His jaw was aching from the tension of holding back the things he really wanted to say. Instead, he had to smile his best charm-the-natives smile while resurrecting every avoidance tactic and conversational feint he'd ever observed Teyla employ during years of negotiations. 

The show he’d been on next had been really bad. The last time he’d been under attack like that had been off-planet, caught out in hostile territory. At least when he’d been off-word on a mission, he’d had grenades, a P90, and his team with him to cover his six.

When they had first met, the host’s disturbing, toothy smile had reminded John of the Wraith. He should have known it was a harbinger of things to come.

 

_"So tell us, General, what do you do for fun?"_

_John leaned back in the chair, casually crossing one leg over his knee. "I'm working my way through "War and Peace"._

_"Haven’t you been reading that book since you went to Atlantis on the first mission?"_

_"Sure have. I'm right on schedule, ask anyone." The audience laughed dutifully._

_"So are you telling us that Russian literature is timeless? Or that it's the one personal item we should take with us if we’re going to be stranded on a desert island - or an Ancient outpost - because it will insure we have reading material for a long, long time?"_

_"Not at all,” he replied easily. “I'd go with a subcutaneous transponder if you're going to be stranded on Earth. If it’s an Ancient outpost, I’d personally recommend a hypochondriac genius astrophysicist. They're pretty helpful with getting out of tough places. For the island, the transponder is better because of the faster rescue and the fact it won't eat all your power bars."_

_The audience laughter was more genuine this time, but the host looked like he’d been handed the perfect opening. “Yes, I’m sure we’ve all read about how... helpful Dr. McKay was to you, personally, all those years on Atlantis.”_

_“He was a valuable member of my team,” John said, keeping his tone even. “He saved all of us more times than I can count. Ronon, Teyla, and I would have died without his big brain there to figure things out more times than I care to remember.”_

_“Well then, speaking of your time on Atlantis. Would you be willing to share some stories with us?” The man’s eyes had been cold and calculating even while his tone had remained jovial. “Perhaps something not in the biographies, or the movie? Some details that we haven’t previously been privy to?”_

_John had kept his easy smile in place, despite the urge to either run or punch the man in the head. He took an even breath and exhaled before speaking. “Sure can,” he agreed easily. “There was this time my team was trapped off world for a couple days. We were stuck till McKay could complete repairs. We were all going a little stir crazy. Then Teyla found an old copy of Cosmo someone had left in the jumper, and started asking about horoscopes..."_

 

After rinsing the soap out of his hair, he methodically scrubbed down his body as he thought back to the TV appearance he'd had the previous day. The Tonight Show was still going strong, even after all these years, and the way the host had treated him had been a relaxing change of pace. The man had seemed to be genuinely kind, and truly interested in John as a person, as opposed to pumping him discreetly for information regarding the off limit topics.

 

 

_"I hear that you’re a horse guy."_

_"Yes, I am."_

_There was a beat when they both looked at each other; the host, invitingly, John gazing back, unperturbed and implacable. The audience began to titter at the standoff after a few moments, and the host laughed._

_“Opened ended questions only, got it,” he said as he chuckled. “Okay, this is what I know about horses. They’re really big. And...Yeah, that’s it. They’re really big.” He waggled his eyebrows. “What do you do with them, and why the interest?”_

_John appreciated a question with no hidden agenda. “My mother had me on a horse as soon as I was old enough to hold on. Jim taught me to ride. I loved it and ended up competing from a young age. I did some 3-Day Eventing and even made it to Rolex one year. These days, I just dabble and help out at the Banks Training Stables when I have the time.”_

_The host nodded. “So, how old were you here?” he asked, gesturing off to the side._

_An image flashed up on the big screen to his left, and John felt a flush creep up his face. It was photo of him, smiling as he held the reins of a horse that towered over him, with a big 1st place ribbon attached to the horse’s bridle. It was a picture of him and PJ after his very first win._

_“I was 12. Jim took that picture,” he said, blinking a few times at the wave of wistfulness that rose up. “He and mom were so proud of me that day.” He grinned. “Jim promised me I’d learn from all the embarrassing mistakes I’d made during training, and he was right.”_

_"Oh really?” the host asked, perking up with interest. “What was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you while you were training for riding?"_

_John couldn’t hold back the rueful smile. “Jim told me to make sure the girth was tightened up. He warned me that PJ would hold his breath and blow up like a toad trying to keep it loose, but I was in a hurry.” He chuckled at that. “I didn’t take the time to make sure I'd done it correctly" He shook his head and looked up at the host. "I was only 11, and so impatient to get out there and ride. About 20 feet out of the gate, I ended up flat on my back in the mud, right after we took the first jump.”_

_“I bet you never forgot to check again.”_

_“You’d win that bet.”_

_The host lounged back in his chair. “And I also understand that this country style of yours is not limited to only horses. Word is that you're a fan of the Man in Black."_

_"You should get a job in the intelligence field," John replied with a smirk._

_"I really should," the host agreed. "Because I ferret out all the secrets – like the fact that you don't just like Cash, but you can actually play."_

_The cheers started while John shook his head. "No, not really, I can't say I play-"_

_But the host had already pulled a guitar out from where it was hidden behind his desk and had a crazy grin on his face. "Yeah, I've heard differently, General," he replied as he rose to his feet and brought the guitar over._

_John stared for a moment before he gave in and took the instrument. There were hoots and catcalls from the audience as he settled it against him, fingers curling around the neck, finding their places on the fret board without a thought. He fell into the familiar bluesy riffs and classic country-fried licks of the country rhythm style he loved, and a genuine smile of happiness emerged._

_“Maybe just a little,” he agreed._

 

 

John smiled again as dried himself off. It had been nice to realize that the host didn’t have a hidden agenda. And that had been one sweet guitar, a parting gift from the show. He dropped the towel on the floor before opening the dresser drawer to pull out a pair of boxers. Today was the appearance he’d been dreading the most. While the show was one of those vapid, breakfast programs that he hated, it was the host that made him nervous.

Anna Grissom used to be a real reporter. She’d gone in as an embedded journalist when the shit really starting hitting the fan after the Stargate program went public. She’d reported the news, but then she’d become the news, denouncing what she called ‘bullshit rules’ and working with the local rebels to help get ATA positives out when they were being slaughtered as part of a genetic cleansing. Unfortunately, that was not the mandate of the unit she was attached to at the time and the military expelled her for putting the unit and its mission at risk. Afterwards, no reputable news agency would touch her, though she reportedly turned down on offer from FOX. Eventually, she ended up on an innocuous morning show.

As he slipped the boxers on, he wondered if the agreement would really hold her back. Even on the morning show, she always managed to ask questions that no typical fluff show host would dream of asking, and somehow, she always seemed to have solid information to back her up. He hoped to hell that she followed the rules today, because if she didn’t, he was under orders to walk away, and he knew what a shitstorm that would stir up.

He sat back on the bed with a sigh. Days like these, he really wished he’d retired on New Athos. If this was what life was going to be like from now on, maybe the next time he and Rodney stepped through the gate to Atlantis, they just wouldn’t come back. Assuming they were ever allowed to go again after this.

He looked at the clock. It was time to get Rodney up and caffeinated and then get on their way.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Anna stared into the mirror while Josie flittered around her, draping a cloth around her shoulders to protect her shirt, then expertly pinning her hair up. In a few short moments, what had been hanks of dull, lifeless hair were transformed into a fabulous updo that would have been the pride of any top-notch salon.

"Pity you can't work magic like this on my career," she remarked as she watched Josie in the mirror.

The other woman laughed as she pinned and sprayed things in place. "Sorry, honey, my magic is with hair and skin only." She pulled back to study Anna's hair, then twisted it up into a style more to her liking. "You should just go for it, Anna," she said as she continued to work. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Anna let out a hollow laugh. "You mean other than losing even this crappy job?"

Done with the hair, Josie started with the makeup. "You hate this job," she said a smoothed foundation evenly over Anna's skin. "You are a good reporter." She stopped and looked Anna in the eye. "You can get him to talk to you, I know you can."

"They'll fire me in a flat second if I ask something that's not on the approved list."

Josie shrugged and started on the eye makeup. "You've been saying how you want a chance to tell a real story. From what I see, you're being handed one on a silver platter. It's up to you what you do with it."

Anna let out a sigh. "Sometimes I don't like you, Josie."

"Life's a bitch, sugar. Now pucker up for the gloss."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

John stared into the mirror. "Maybe I can call in sick."

In the main room, Rodney was rifling through the closet. "Have you seen my green button down?” He checked the clothes that had come back from the hotel laundry. “I could have sworn I had it cleaned."

"I could claim to have the flu. You think that would work?"

"Never mind, found it,” Rodney said as he slipped the shirt on. “Hey, grab my black socks, would you?" has asked as he worked on the buttons. “I left them in there.”

John tossed the socks out the door. "Do you think there's a chance the Wraith might invade today?"

“Don’t even joke about that,” Rodney admonished him "And you could call in dead, it wouldn’t matter. They would still expect you to show up for this interview. C'mon, chop chop. How is it that I am ready before you? Stop pouting and move or we're going to be late." He stood at the door of the bathroom, arms crossed. “You know, this whole interview thing will go a lot better if you put on some pants.”

John glared at him. “I don’t want to,” he said, and he was absolutely not pouting. “I’m tired of this bullshit. I’m not going,” he declared. “What are they going to do, fire me?”

Rodney turned around and walked away, returning a moment later with John’s pants. He thrust them in his hands. "Look, I know this sucks, but you know as well as I do that you don’t have a choice anymore. If you had wanted to disobey orders, you should have told O’Neill to fuck himself from the get go.”

John sullenly took the pants, but made no move to put them on. “Also, if you think you’ll get out of answering the tough questions because Grissom will be impressed by your big dick, I've got news for you. I'm the only one that gets to be impressed. So put on your goddamn pants.”

“Fuck you,” John hissed as he put his pants on. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I know,” he preened. “That’s why you love me. Now move your ass. The car is here.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Anna turned to the camera, her best professional smile firmly in place. "Today we're joined by a man who needs no introduction. You've all heard of his exploits in the Pegasus Galaxy, and if you're like me, you even own, "The Siege", the movie based on real life events as they unfolded during those early years of the Atlantis Expedition. I'm delighted to introduce General John Sheppard, decorated veteran and former military commander of the City of Atlantis."

When she looked over at Sheppard, she caught his discomfiture even as his trademark smirk slid into place. She was going to have to tread lightly with him. "Thank you for speaking with me today, General."

He nodded, wariness in his eyes belaying the smile. "Happy to be here."

She couldn't completely suppress the amused snort and his mouth quirked just the slightest bit at one corner in acknowledgement. She gave him the tiniest of nods and then began.

"So, tell us General, what does a man who can fly the Ancient city of Atlantis between two galaxies with his mind do for excitement after he retires?"

“I don’t know" he quipped. "You’d have to ask Carson what he’s been up to these days.”

“I already did,” she replied immediately. “When he’s not involved with his research, he raises sheep. Says it relaxes him.” She cocked an eyebrow. “And yourself?”

That pulled a genuine chuckle out of Sheppard. "Well, I try to stay in the good graces of the SGC and the IOA by volunteering to play light switch when they need me to. I also let O’Neill beat me at golf. That gets me invited out for a visit every now and then."

“I understand that back on Atlantis you had a little putting green set up, and you used to golf with Ronon and even visiting versions of your team members - like the Rodney McKay from another universe.”

He shrugged. “Ronon does something more akin to knocking it out the park,” he said with a shake of his head. “And yeah, there was that one time. That was Rod, who was just like and yet nothing like the Rodney McKay of this universe.”

She gave him a smile but it had a brittle edge. “Well, we’ve got a little putting green set up for you here in the studio and were hoping you could give us a demonstration.”

Sheppard froze. “Demonstration?”

“Yes, General. Our studio audience would love it if you could show off your skills.” She stood and gestured for him to rise, pointing out the little green mat and golf clubs set out in an open area of the stage.

He reluctantly stood, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “You know, I’m really a much better pilot than I am a golfer,” he confessed as he walked with her toward the green. He just knew this was not going to end well.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

Anna gazed at her notes while the sound guys re-situated Sheppard's microphone during the break. She was trying to keep it together, be the perky, fluffy host they wanted her to be, but between the banal approved questions list and the inane golf demo, she was at her breaking point.

She had wanted to interview Sheppard since the day the program went public. She remembered the day it all blew open like it was yesterday.

 

_She looked up, the sudden buzz of conversation cutting across the quiet, catching her attention. She had a journalism project that was due and the distraction was annoying. She saw people gathering in groups all over the library, looking at phones and tablets, some looking stunned others ecstatic._

_There was a whimper from beside her. Anna looked over to see the girl in the next cubicle shaking, knuckles white with tension where they gripped the edges of her tablet._

_"Hey," she spoke quietly, not wanting to spook the other student. "What's going on?"_

_The girl’s expression was by turns disbelieving and terrified. Without a word, she handed over the tablet. Anna looked down to find a YouTube video and hit play. It showed a man lying on the pavement in front of a truck. It looked like he’d been hit; his leg was not lying naturally, and there was blood everywhere. There was a man kneeling over him, yelling at someone to beam them up. Anna’s eyes widened. “Beam them up? Seriously?”_

_The other girl was pale. “Keep watching.”_

_Anna turned her gaze back to the video. The guy on the pavement was in bad shape, and she was more than a little disgusted that the moron standing there, taking a video of it wasn’t trying to help instead. Just as she was about to say so out loud, the figured on the road vanished. There were sparkles, like a Hollywood special effect, and then they were gone._

_Anna looked up at the other girl in disbelief. "No way is this real!" she insisted._

_"That's what I thought,” she said. “Then my brother texted me to watch the news story about some guy who got hit by a truck being *beamed up* from a parking lot, just like in Star Trek, and there it was on CNN, the *same video* that's running on YouTube."_

_The two of them stared at each other. "Holy shit."_

 

She was a journalist, not a mindless yes-girl. It was possible she could be wrong, but her gut told her the accusations against Sheppard weren't true. Yes, there was a story hiding in the recently released documents, she’d read them and she could tell, but there were just too many missing pieces, huge chunks still redacted, to put the real story together. Something had happened that Sheppard had been told not to talk about, and he fairly reeked of guilt over it.

The military wanted to showcase the hero of Pegasus and the network wanted ratings. She just wanted the truth.

Sheppard's voice broke Anna from her reverie. "I'm sorry."

She tilted her head to the side. "For what?"

He motioned sheepishly toward back stage and she smiled. "Oh, that." She shook her head. "Seriously, the producer is thrilled that your shot went wild," she assured him. "The golf segment will probably get half a million hits online by midnight." She laughed again when he noticeably paled at the thought.

"30 seconds to air!"

She pasted her professional smile back in place and waited for the count, then turned to address the audience. “Welcome back to the show. For those just joining us, we have General John Sheppard, former military commander of Atlantis with us today."

She paused for a moment, to acknowledge him, the continued. "Most people can think back to what they were doing during the important world events of their lifetime. Anyone old enough to remember will no doubt recall that conspiracy theories had been circulating for years. There were crazy stories about little grey men and alien abductions, but most folks didn’t really believe any of that.”

She turned her gaze to Sheppard. “The media was buzzing with space fever for several months before it all blew open. The big story was about the mysterious IOA, whose member countries were working on revolutionary new space capable jet fighters and weapons. There were even rumours of secret space stations where troops were deployed.” She smiled slightly. “So close and yet so far away from the reality of what was actually going on.”

Sheppard nodded warily. “I remember. Some classified information had gotten out, but most of the stories had no basis in reality at all.”

“It didn’t take long for the truth to come out after the beam-up video went viral.” Anna replied. “And while it was sobering to realize that we'd lived blissfully unaware in a galaxy embroiled in strife, it was utterly terrifying to realize there had been attempts – multiple attempts – to invade, enslave or destroy our planet.”

Turning back to her audience, she continued. “The fact that we all still remained alive and free was due to the actions of a small group of soldier and scientists who were just doing their jobs, real, live heroes, saving the planet on a regular basis. People like John Sheppard.”

Unexpectedly, the audience rose to their feet, and burst into applause. She waited for it to subside, keeping her eyes on Sheppard. He was fidgeting, and looked extremely uncomfortable at being described as a hero. In light of the recent controversy, she was not at all surprised.

This was it. It was the interview of a lifetime. She could either stick to the script as ordered, and the story would remain untold, or she could cross the line. Possibly screw up everything, chance having him walk, and probably get her pink slip.

She let out the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. To hell with safe. Screw the pre-approved questions. She just needed to convince him that he needed to tell the world what really happened. 

"Look, General, let's you and I cut through the bullshit, ok? We both know the real reason you're here today." She was gratified to see the smirk was back.

"Is that so, Miss Grissom?" he asked, shifting to lean oh-so-casually back in his chair, even though he was plainly thrumming with tension. "And what would that be?"

"Damage control," she said, pointedly ignoring the producer in the background who was flailing madly in an attempt to get her attention. "You're fully aware of the rumours and the allegations. Dancing all around it won't make it go away."

"I agreed to this interview with the express understanding that certain subjects were off limits. This is one of them." His eyes flashed with anger, but his voice remained even. "Pick a different topic."

Anna was amazed at his self-control. Sheppard clearly wanted to yell, flip a table, or go find the PR person who arranged the interview and strangle them. Possibly all three things, in that order.

"This is the only topic of any real importance, and you know it," she said. As she watched, an expression she could not name flit briefly across his face, but then it smoothed out again, going blank and cold. 

"We're done here," he said with a decisive nod as he rose to his feet.

Anna jumped up and stepped in front of him. "I know what it's like," she said as she placed a hand on his arm. He stared pointedly at her hand but she didn't remove it. "I know what its like," she repeated and finally he looked at her.

"You know what *what* is like?" he asked, tone deceptively mild, steel covered with velvet. He waited for her to speak instead of pulling away and she let herself hope that she could get through to him.

She was momentarily distracted by the frantic, off-camera hysterics of her producer, his tinny voice hissing at her through her earpiece to stop, desist, and quit this line of questioning. She casually brushed her hair behind her ear and popped it out, unobtrusively sliding it in her pocket. It earned her a ghost of a smile from Sheppard, and she turned her full attention back to him.

"I know what it's like to be given an order you can't follow," she replied, staring him in the eye. "To follow your conscience and make the hard choice. To be wrong and see someone else pay the price."

He huffed out a bitter laugh and looked away. "You think that's what this is about? Choosing to disobey a bad order?"

"That's just it, I don't know what to think," she said earnestly. "I don't really care about your golf swing, General. What I care about is the truth. The truth about what happened to Henry Wallace. The truth about what happened during the Wraith attack." 

"There are things I am not able to talk about-"

"Oh please," she said, rolling her eyes. "Surely the brass realize that It's already all out there! All that's missing is why!" His body language was still stiff and closed off, but he wasn't pulling away so she pressed on. 

"Look, everything you've been doing for the last two weeks has been nothing but smoke and mirrors, a dazzling show to try and distract from the real matter at hand," she said, waving a hand around for emphasis. "Your actions over the years have consistently been those of an honourable man. You flew alone, against an invading Wraith hive, and almost sacrificed your life and your team to save the planet. You are, by every definition I know, a hero. Now there are allegations that you would, and have sold out your own people for personal gain. There are facts on record that seem to support this – Henry Wallace died, at the hands of a Wraith prisoner, on your watch. So would you *please* just tell us your side of the story? "

The fight went out of him all at once. Anna let go as he sat back down and swiped a hand over his face, holding it over his eyes for a moment, before letting it drop into his lap.

Anna was shocked at how dramatic the difference was. Sheppard looked *old* for the first time.

"I'm not a hero, Ms. Grissom," he said as he slumped back into his chair.

Instead of moving back behind her desk, she took the guest chair beside him. She set her elbows on her knees, and cupped her face in her hands as she leaned in towards him.

"Tell me why you would say that."

 

_"This is reprehensible!" Coolridge shouted. "You guilted the man into committing suicide by Wraith!"_

_Sheppard deliberately relaxed his jaw and took a breath before answering. "No sir, I merely presented the situation to Mr. Wallace. He volunteered."_

_"Well, if that isn't the biggest crock of bullshit doublespeak I've ever heard," the Coolridge snapped back. He was about to launch into another tirade when O'Neill cut him off._

_"The Colonel acted under orders, Mr. Coolridge," he said in an icy tone that conveyed his utter lack of interest in pursuing the subject any further. "His actions were fully sanctioned and supported by the SGC."_

_Coolridge gaped at him for a moment before speaking again. "You mean to tell me that you *approved* this atrocity? That you CONDONE feeding humans to, to an alien just to gain technological advances?"_

_O'Neill's nostrils flared and he had malice in his eye. "That is not what happened here, and you damn well know it!" he growled. "This investigation is *over*. Unless you were planning on dragging me in front of the IOA review board?"_

_"You won't get away with this!" Coolridge said as he stood. He gave Sheppard one more glare before striding out of the room._

_Sheppard glanced warily at O'Neill. "Sanctioned and condoned, sir?"_

_O'Neill waved a hand in a circle. "What, you think I'm going to throw you to the wolves?" he groused with a sigh. "You clearly adhere to the old adage of asking forgiveness rather than permission." He shook his head and favoured Sheppard with a scowl "I understand why you did it and I might even agree that McKay is pretty close to being mission essential on Atlantis, but if you ever put me in a position like that again, I will break you all the way down to airman." He pinned Sheppard with his stare. "Got it?"_

_Sheppard swallowed. "I was kind of expecting that this time, sir."_

_O'Neill shook his head. "It wasn't the wrong thing to do," he said. "It wasn't the right thing, either. But it was the only thing possible in the situation. And you're going to live with it for the rest of your life."_

 

“You didn’t kill Wallace.”

Sheppard shook his head. “No, but I made it very clear that Jeannie or Rodney would die and it would be his fault. He was emotionally vulnerable and I appealed to the fact he felt like he had nothing left to live for.” Sheppard looked at her, and the agony of the decision was clear in his eyes. “I might as well have killed him myself.”

“He wasn’t forced at gunpoint,” she repeated. “He asked you to take him to the Wraith,” she continued. “Tell me, did you make the decision lightly?”

Sheppard looked offended. “No!”

“How did you sleep afterwards?”

He blinked. “Not very well for a while.”

“Do you regret it?”

“I don’t regret that Rodney lived,” he said. “I do regret that Wallace died to save him.” He paused a moment, then continued. “But if I had to go back, I’d do it again.”

“It sounds to me like you were a man in an untenable situation faced with an impossible choice.” She sat back, then leaned against the arm of the chair. 

“Regardless of whether or not it was manipulation or Wallace’s choice, it doesn’t sound like the accusations that you were feeding endless people to the Wraith for scientific advances and personal gain hold any water.”

Anna realized that it might have just been wishful thinking, but Sheppard looked slightly less wound up than he’d been before he’d told the story, like the weight of it was finally off his shoulders. She hoped it was true, and that it would ease the way for the rest.

“But there are still the other allegations regarding the Wraith attack,” she reminded him gently. “You’ve cleared the air about Henry Wallace. Won’t you tell us what happened back on Atlantis?”

He grimaced. “The attack was unexpected. The Wraith had developed a stealth technology that evaded our deep space scanners and we didn’t have any warning, they were just suddenly there.”

 

 

_"Hey, McKay," Sheppard's voice rang out across the lab. Rodney looked up from his computer to see Sheppard heading for him._

_"No, no, no," he said, poking a finger at Sheppard while he shook his head. "You need to go away and not distract me, I'm onto something here, I can feel it-"_

_Sheppard just ignored him, finally coming to a stop at his desk. He proceeded to cock one hip to the side and lean against it in a very distracting way. "Rodney. C'mon. Burgers today, buddy, honest-to-god, real beef burgers with cheese and bacon and all the fixings._

_Rodney looked up suspiciously. "Really? Cheeseburgers?"_

_"With bacon," Sheppard reminded him, inviting look on his face._

_Rodney started to close down his workstation. "There will only be bacon if we get there before Ronon does," he said as he stood up and stretched._

_"Relax, he's out running the marines through the obstacle course they set up on the South pier," Sheppard said with a grin as they headed out of the lab. "He didn't think it was hard enough, so he improved on it a bit."_

_Rodney chuckled as they got into the transporter. "How many of them have made it through since he modified it?"_

_Sheppard waggled his eyebrows. "None."_

_The transporter opened and they exited, stepping into the hall just down from the mess. John glanced out the floor to ceiling windows. Seven years in this city, and the view never got old – the gleaming spires, the graceful architecture, and the vast expanse of sea beyond._

_High in the sky, something caught his attention. He stared up into the cloudless expanse of azure and felt unease start to grow. "Rodney," he called urgently. "Do you see that?"_

_Rodney's gaze followed the direction he was pointing, but it was already becoming clear that the hazy, indistinct mass approaching was actually a swarm of small craft. Sheppard hit his communicator. "Control Room, we have incoming!" he shouted. "Lorne, scramble the pilots and get them in jumpers ASAP! Ronon, get the marines geared up, we're about to be under attack!"_

_Rodney was yelling his own orders. "Get the shield up, Radek! Yes I know, I don't care what you have to sacrifice, just make it happen!"_

_And then the tell-tale whine of Darts was all around them, whizzing through the buildings, like a horrible flashback to the attack during their first year. As they watched, one of the darts peeled off toward the South pier._

_"Oh, no," Rodney whispered._

_Sheppard was on his radio. "Ronon, get the men under cover, you're sitting ducks-"_

_The dart began to weave unsteadily, a plume of smoke emerging from one side, indicating some of the city's soldiers were already armed and out there fighting. Unfortunately, instead of spinning off harmlessly into the ocean, the dart crashed, leaving a trail of wreckage for hundreds of feet down the pier._

_"Ronon! Ronon, come in!" Sheppard was shouting, but there was no reply. Rodney reached out and grabbed Sheppard's arm. "John, we've got to get to the chair room!"_

_John nodded. "Let's show these sons of bitches what your new and improved drones can do."_

_****_

_The last few hours had been grim. John had taken out hundreds upon hundreds of darts, but they just kept coming, and eventually, their supply of drones had been exhausted. The time it had taken to get the shield up had cost them dearly in both lives and damage to the city._

_They had been able to establish an outgoing wormhole before the Wraith could dial in and lock out the gate. Almost all personnel had been evacuated to the Alpha site, and a message had been sent to the Daedalus to divert there. There hadn't been enough power in the ZPM to keep up the shield and dial Earth to send people home, so it was the best they could do under the circumstances._

_They couldn't set the automated self-destruct. Even if there hadn’t been extensive damage to the mainframe because of the attack, they would need Woolsey’s command codes, and the man was currently in a coma. He'd been sent along with the others to the Alpha site. They were running out of options._

_"We're really going to die this time," Rodney said, his voice strangely calm._

_"No, we’re not," John replied, his automatic response to Rodney's doom and gloom predictions slipping out before his brain was fully engaged._

_Rodney tilted his head to one side, expression incredulous. "No?" he asked, crossing his arms. "The Wraith are *in the city*. The Daedalus is still at least two days out."_

_"We'll fight, Rodney," John began, but Rodney cut him off._

_"Every soldier in Atlantis could fight until they ran out of bullets, but eventually, we'll still be overrun. There's enough power left to keep the shield up till help arrives, but that's only if we can hold the power room. Right now, there are more Wraith in the city than there are us." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "If they get in, there's enough juice in the ZPM for them to reach earth."_

_"The SGC won't open the iris-" Sheppard began, but Rodney cut him off._

_"Any planet in the Milky Way would be equally as bad. We've got to get everyone else out and blow the city. With the damage from the attacks, we've got no choice but to manually trigger the self-destruct."_

_"I refuse to accept that," he snapped back. "There's got to be another way out of this."_

_Rodney shook his head. "I don't get you," he said confusion in his tone. "It wasn't all that long ago you were ready to blow up the entire team on that Wraith hive. You didn't even twitch, you just demanded the self-destruct button, and *I gave it to you*. We can’t win, John, there's just no way, so why are we even discussing this? It's inevitable."_

__Because now I have more to live for than duty and sacrifice _John thought. "How many times have we been on the brink so-called inevitable defeat, and then somehow, we made it through? I refuse to accept the no-win scenario!"_

_Rodney stared at him for a moment, then he laughed. "I've been saying you were Kirk for years, and there you go, proving me right." All humour dropped away. "So, I guess this is your Kobayashi Maru then."_

_John reached out and grabbed Rodney by the shoulders. He pulled him close, touching foreheads together Athosian style._

_"Shut up about me being Kirk already," he whispered. "We're going to live through this, that's an order."_

_****_

_They were caught trying to get to the power room. One moment they were slipping down an empty corridor and the next, they were surrounded by drones. Sheppard emptied his P90 into them, followed by his sidearm and when that was empty, he pulled out his knife and went for the throat, dimly aware of Rodney fighting for his life next to him._

_One of the drones must have stunned them, because the next thing he knew, he and Rodney were being dragged out onto the pier to stand before the Wraith commander. Sheppard could see the golden shimmer above the city indicating the shield was still up. That meant the marines were still holding the power room. God bless the corp._

_"Where are the rest of your people, John Sheppard?" The low pitched, sibilant voice carried across the pier, clearly audible despite the whine of the darts passing overhead._

_"Oh, they thought it would be a great day for a field trip," he replied breezily. The commander studied him for a moment, then made a signal to the drone who was holding Rodney. The drone suddenly wrapped his hand around McKay's throat._

_"What is the address of your home world?"_

_He thought of several witty comebacks, but he was tired. He decided to go with the classics – crude, but effective. "Kiss my ass."_

_The Wraith signalled the drone once again, treating John to the terrible sounds of Rodney choking as he struggled to free himself of the drone hand clamped around his throat. "Do you not wish to save your mate? It is your choice, John Sheppard."_

_John had a hysterical moment to think of the doomsayers who proclaimed the earth's population was in need of culling. If they only knew. Rodney or 7 billion people on Earth. It wasn't much of a choice._

_He opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out. He cleared his throat, tried to say the words that would damn the man he loved to painful death at the hands of the Wraith while he watched, and then, just for a breath of a moment, he considered letting the whole world burn for Rodney. The teaming masses of people with no idea of all that had been suffered for them by soldiers and scientists out on other worlds, protecting them from things they didn't even know existed._

_He repudiated the thought before he even breathed out, knowing full well that he would let the wraith torture Rodney slowly to death in front of him rather than give up the Earth, but he wondered how much of that was because he was making the hard choice to do the right thing and how much was because Rodney would never forgive him if he traded his life for the planet._

_"Go fuck yourself."_

_The Wraith commander studied him momentarily before making a quick motion to the drone holding McKay. The drone dragged McKay over to him, shoving him down at his commander's feet. John started forward instinctively, but the drones on either side of him grabbed his arms, holding him immobile, a helpless observer of what was to come._

_McKay tried to scrabble away, but the drone stepped in behind him, holding him securely by the back of his tac-vest. He was babbling as he struggled to get free of the vest - "No, no, no, no, oh god," and then the Wraith was ripping the vest and his BDUs open like paper, exposing his chest._

_"NO!" the scream burst forth from John as he lunged forward again. A stream of curses and profanity poured out of his mouth, beyond his control as he struggled against the vice-like grip holding him fast. “I’ll give you. - look, take me instead,” he pleaded._

_“Tell me the address for your homeworld, JohnSheppard.”_

 

Anna's heart was in her throat. The Wraith Invasion was one of those events that most of the public was familiar with, even if not in detail. The SGC almost lost Atlantis, but the stories had been told in terms of strategies, tactics and Colonel Sheppard boldly snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. The human part, the fear, self-doubt and struggles had been glossed over.

"I can't imagine what it must have been like to be in that position," she said, shaking her head. "I must have been horrific to watch that, and not be able to do anything."

"It wasn't one of my best days, no."

"You certainly have a gift for understatement," she said ruefully. "What you faced would be enough to break most people. It's one thing to face your own death, but being taunted by a malevolent entity bent on eating you and all the people you care about – that is the stuff of nightmares." 

Sheppard had the inward look of someone lost in thought. Anna gently nudged him. “What happened next?”

 

 

_Sheppard clenched his jaw, and shook his head. “No.”_

_The Wraith's feeding hand slammed into McKay's chest, eliciting an agonized shriek from Rodney as his hands batted ineffectually at the Wraith's arm, attempting to pull it free. As John watched, Rodney's struggles lessened as his hair began to go grey at the temples. Then, unexpectedly, the Wraith released McKay, letting him slump into the drone's grip._

_He turned his gaze back to Sheppard, who was breathing hard, and vibrating with rage. "What a unique flavour," he commented mildly, smacking his lips lightly before giving John a toothy smile. "Far too interesting to consume all at once. Perhaps I will have more later – or perhaps you will change your mind and give me what I want. I promise that if you do, I will allow you both to live."_

_Sheppard was almost sick with the bitterness and bile in his throat when he spoke. "Not happening."_

_The Wraith approached him, walking around him slowly to stand behind him. He leaned in close, pointedly scenting the air, leaving Sheppard's skin crawling, every nerve ending screaming to get away as the Wraith quietly spoke. "We shall see. I can smell your fear and anger, but I can also smell the shame. I know the scent well; I've smelled it a hundred times before from humans who gave up their friends to save their lovers. What do you care for the lives of people you do not know? You can save him and live the rest of your lives out together in peace."_

_He made another motion and the drone supporting McKay hefted him up over his shoulder and set off down the length of the pier while the two holding Sheppard's arms dragged him along behind. "Think on my words, John Sheppard. We will speak again soon."_

_He was so caught up in his rage at the Wraith commander and his concern for Rodney, he didn't even notice Ronon or the Marines until they were on top of them, an entire squad emerging, as if from the aether, to take out the drones holding them._

_As soon as Sheppard was free, he grabbed a P90 from one of the marines and went after the Wraith commander, Ronon hot on his heels. They took out a few more drones along the way, and a few marines caught up with them and joined in the fray._

_They literally caught the commander as he was climbing into a dart in an attempt to escape them. Sheppard shoved his P90 in the way before the canopy of the Dart could fully close, allowing Ronon enough time to scramble up the wing and yank the canopy back hard enough to damage it, making it impossible to achieve a space proof seal._

_Ronon went to town, wailing on the Wraith who found it impossible to fight back being trapped as he was in the cockpit. Sheppard had to shout at him repeatedly to get him to back off._

_"Ronon, goddammit, don't kill him!" he yelled. "He fed off Mckay!"_

_Ronon, looked back and Sheppard and gave him a terse nod. He stood up and held his gun on the Wraith, and several of the marines had their weapons trained on him as well. "Get out."_

_He slowly climbed out and jumped down to face Sheppard where he stood on the pier. Sheppard walked right up to him and poked him in the chest. "You took something that didn't belong to you," he growled. "And now you're going to put it back."_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Anna felt emotionally spent by the tale, but Sheppard seemed to be downright exhausted. His posture and affect had changed markedly, no longer exuding lazy confidence and self-assurance. Now he slumped forward, shoulders stooped and head hanging down, as if ashamed to meet her eyes.

As a reporter, the web of accusations fabricated from the half-truths and twisted facts offended her. Truth mattered, whether it was pleasant or horrible. As a human being, her heart clenched painfully at the thought he'd been carrying around guilt over this for years.

"General, please allow me to summarize and make sure I fully understand. Several months after Dr. McKay's kidnapping ordeal, where you lost him for an extended period of time, you found yourself in another situation where you were faced with losing him again. And for just a moment, you considered the possibility of giving up, and sacrificing everyone and everything for the man you love?"

Sheppard nodded, head bowed like Atlas with the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Anna continued. "And then, you didn't actually do that. Instead, you made the choice to sacrifice Dr. McKay to a horrible fate to keep the Earth safe. Against the odds, you not only survived but Dr. McKay was restored, the invading Wraith were defeated, Atlantis was rebuilt, the earth was saved…"

She trailed off and Sheppard slowly looked up at her, his expression still closed off, but at least not so utterly defeated as it had been.

"You told a review board that you _thought_ about putting McKay first, and for that reason you were compromised. They turned around and told you that you showed sound judgement and were perfectly fit for duty, having done nothing wrong. Now someone is mounting what appears to be a smear campaign against your for, what, exactly? Wanting the person you love to live? And you think you deserve to be reviled for that, is that what you're telling me?"

Sheppard was staring at her now, wide-eyed, and Anna suddenly realized that her voice was shaking and she was just shy of yelling at him.

Sheppard lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck, something she recognized from countless interviews and public appearances as his coping mechanism for when he was uncomfortable. After a moment, he finally spoke. "It's just that, when you're responsible for people's lives-"

She was about to cut him off when a loud voice rang out across the studio, beating her to it.

"Oh my god, just stop!" McKay yelled at Anna as he stormed across the studio and walked onto the set. "There is no getting through to him once he decides that he's fallen short, so just drop it before you do something horrible like make him talk about his *feelings*!" He came to a stop in front of them and then turned to John. "You are an idiot, I've been telling you this for years, and once again, empirical evidence supports my hypothesis.” Rodney looked around for a chair, but there were none. “You." He pointed at one of the PAs and snapped his fingers. "Yes, you, with the headset. Bring me a chair. Now!”

Anna raised her eyebrows while John gave him a wan smile. "Hey, Rodney. Why don't you join us?"

The PA came scrambling up with a rolling office chair which Rodney took before waving her off. He sat on it, bouncing a few times and nodded before turning his attention back to Sheppard.

"You just shut up, I'm not talking to you!" he barked even while he reached out and took John’s hand and gripped it tightly. He turned all of his attention on Anna.

“That’s it. You’re done. You’re going to break him and I? I have to live with him and so just - no. If you have any other questions, you’re going to have to ask me.”

“My hero,” said Sheppard. McKay scowled, but he gripped John’s hand tighter.

Anna smiled at McKay. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I do have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Anna groaned and rolled over as the phone ringing roused her from a too-short sleep. She peered blearily at the clock. 3:37 AM. Who the hell was calling her at the ass end of the night?

She fumbled for her cell and looked at the display – the SGC? Oh, crap, this could not be good. She’d expected there would be fallout, but not quite this soon.

"Hello?" she answered cautiously as she sat up.

"Am I speaking to Anna Grissom?" The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

"Yes, that's me."

"This is Major General Jack O'Neill," the voice continued and Anna felt her head spinning and let herself collapse back onto her bed. "That was quite the interview you conducted with Sheppard. Not exactly what we agreed upon."

"Look, General, I didn't agree to anything, which you would know if you read the contract that I didn't sign."

He chuckled. "Yes, the legal folks were quite unhappy to discover a signature of 'I don't agree to this bullshit' on their document."

She yawned. "I am far too tired for this. Tell me what it is you want at this ungodly hour of the night, or I'm hanging up."

"Ms. Grissom, how would feel about coming to work for me?"

Anna's eyes widened and she sat straight up. "Can you promise me there will be no breakfast television in my future?"

"Only if you want to watch it."

She grinned. "Then I think we can talk."

**Author's Note:**

> I must thank the lovely and talented Outsideth3box. As always, she was my tireless supporter and cheerleader, encouraging, helpful, and honest when things sounded stupid. I love her a lot.
> 
> Also, the incomparable Melagan - and I really don't need to explain to anyone who knows her what an instigator she is. McKay's quip about Sheppard's pants? Yeah, you know where THAT came from.
> 
> Finally, thanks to SGAMadison and good horse sense. No, really. I know squat about horses. I know they're really big and... yeah. They're really big. Everything I know about horse riding and showmanship, I learned from Madison. She ROCKS.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ART - Full Disclosure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/941802) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan)




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